


I Remember

by Deannie



Series: Dear Love [7]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Death, Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-06-05
Updated: 1997-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon asks a favor from a friend. Part seven of the 'Dear Love' series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Remember

"Please, Simon?" 

Simon Banks rolled his eyes. Forty years old, and Blair Sandburg could still pout with the teenagers. 

"I feel weird doing this, Blair." 

"But I'd feel better." Blair sighed, as he grasped Simon's hand across the table. "Come on, Simon, what's it going to hurt?" He smiled. "It's not like he's going to be able to complain." 

Simon just groused for a moment. "That's part of the problem." 

Blair stood up, still holding Simon's hand, and moved to stand behind his lover. "You still having a problem with this?" 

His lover shook his head. "No." He looked up at Blair, and love shone in his eyes. "No. If this is going to help you decide, then I *want* this, Blair... I just feel..." 

Blair wrapped his arms around the older man's shoulders. "Like you're going behind his back?" He gestured to the piece of paper in front of them. "You don't have to." 

Simon looked at the paper, looked at his lover, and picked up the pen. "You're hopeless, Sandburg, you know that." 

Blair kissed Simon's balding pate. He'd never had a thing for balding men before, but somehow with Simon, it was too sexy. "I know." 

"I don't know why I put up with you, sometimes." 

Blair gave him another kiss. "Because you love me." 

Simon smiled, still trying to sound irritated. "As if *that* makes up for it."  
  


* * *

Jim, 

Okay, Blair's making me write this letter. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to you, here, but I can't refuse him--you and I are a little too alike in that category. 

I just got an elbow in the gut, which I guess is my cue to get on with this. 

I suppose I should tell you what's been happening the past 5 years. That'll make it easier to understand why I'm writing to you now. 

I was forcibly retired from the Cascade P.D. four and a half years ago--about a year and a half after your death. Blair tells me that he told you about the shooting. Turned out those bullets had done a lot more damage than they'd originally hoped, and I couldn't return to active duty. 

And you know me. I sure as *hell* wasn't going to sit a desk job! 

So, I was gone. Too much time on my hands, too much pain in my body, and a pension that made life pretty comfortable. 

And of course, there's the money I skimmed from your life insurance policy. Sandburg's mom really does play a mean game of poker, and I had to pay myself back for taking care of the kid for you... 

That's a lie, and if you're looking down here, you'll know that. Blair was devastated when you were shot, and, your letters aside, I really began to worry about whether we'd be able to keep him here. 

He kind of floated through that summer, Jim. It was so hard to watch, because I just didn't know what to do to make him feel any better. Losing a friend is never easy, and I'm not sure I ever really got over your death *either*, but for him to lose the one lover who'd ever really meant something to him... 

He managed, somehow. Brian Ryf was a good thing for him, even if the relationship didn't work out--at least someone was focusing on him, keeping an eye out. 

I tried, Jim. But you know Sandburg and I were never close when you two were together, and as much as I cared for the kid back then, I didn't think I was really getting through... At least until I broke up with Kris. 

We were talking marriage, you know? She seemed like everything I'd ever wanted. I still don't know exactly what happened. I think, in the end, that it was kind of like what happened with you and Carolyn. I just didn't know what to say to her anymore, and she didn't want to spend the rest of her life dragging it out of me. 

So we went our separate ways in August of the year you died. Blair had been getting steadily better--a lot of it was going back to teaching, I think. He and I went up to the cabin a few times in early September. I think he did it more to try to get me over Kris than out of a desire for my companionship-- 

I just got another elbow in the ribs, so maybe I was wrong. 

Anyway, we started really getting to know each other, and I kind of felt like I was getting to know him for the first time. He's very different now, Jim. You'd be surprised. He just doesn't seem as... flighty--OW! you can guess what that was. If you'll forgive me, I'm going to throw him out of here... 

Much better! Seriously, Jim... Your death really changed him. He just lost... some of his light, I guess. I mean, he was still that sort of brimming-over-with-brains kid, but he didn't glow anymore. He couldn't exhaust you just by walking into the room. 

I can't say that I missed it, at least at first. He was more considered with his words, more guarded with his ideas. I felt like he was someone I could approach, instead of a kid that had to be kept at arms' length for the sake of my own sanity. 

It's funny. You told me to look after him, but it was *Blair* who ended up looking after *me*. 

He spent a lot of his off-time just sort of... hanging around. He was going out with this professor over at the U.--she was great, Jim. You'd have loved her--if you didn't kill her for stealing him away from you. 

But again, she wanted something he couldn't give, and she ended up dumping him. I think it said a lot--and not all for the better--that he didn't seem to really let it faze him. 

He and I spent even more time together after that. He joked that we were just helping each other ignore the heartache. But it was something more than that, Jim. And I don't know, even now, if I can honestly say when it changed.... 

We spent Halloween night together. Just talking at first. He was dressed up in this sort of Dracula knock off, and had pulled me to the party dressed as Darth Vader. I think we were both feeling pretty dark and foreboding at the time. 

I don't even know why I went, to tell you the truth. I've never been one for parties like that--even at the best of times. But he grew on me. 

Is that how it was for you, Jim? You just woke up one day, and suddenly, Blair and his happiness were the only really important things left? 

Anyway, Darryl was good about the whole--his mother, of course, was the nagging brat she's been for the past ten years. She didn't want him coming to see me--afraid he'd catch something, I suppose. But Blair and Darryl had gone through a lot together. The situation at the precinct house, that hell in Peru... They already had a friendship, and I think Darryl was just glad to see his old man happy. 

I didn't think *Blair* was very happy at the time, though. But I was used to the old Blair--the Blair that loved you so much, that every time he looked at you, I swear, I saw his eyes glow. 

He's not the same any more. I don't know that you'd have liked the changes. But I love them. I have to... 

Those changes are pretty much what saved my life. 

That drug bust was a fiasco from the beginning, Jim. I could almost feel it coming down. And I can't say that I was surprised when I suddenly got caught in the middle of it--a bullet to the neck, three to the chest. I probably shouldn't have lasted through the surgery. 

They tell you that coma patients don't hear anything when they're under, or, at the most, they just hear the tone of what's being said. I know now that they're wrong. 

I heard everything that Blair said to me during that four weeks. And one thing sticks in my mind. I feel like I have to tell you about it, if only to justify to myself that I'm not taking *your* Blair away from you. 

He sat there for days, but it wasn't what you'd think. He had classes to teach, and research to finish, so he stayed with me when he could. I remember when Schiavelli tried to take you down. After I'd bullied the ICU staff into cutting him some slack, he stayed with you for fourteen hours straight, talking non-stop. 

And he cried when I finally had to take him home. I think he was more afraid you'd be mad at him for leaving than he was that you would die before he got back the next day. 

With me, he was *my* Blair. He sat there, and told me about the classes he was teaching, or the lunch he'd had with a friend, or what was going on with the Sonics. And through it all, he kept saying, over and over, "I'm here, Simon. I'll wait for you, honey. Take all the time you need." 

Honey... He's never called me Lover. That was your word, and I think he was a little afraid to give it to anyone else. That's okay, though. Even my *wife* never called me that! 

And he's kept the loft. I stayed there for nearly six months when I got out of the hospital, but I always felt like it was your home. Your ghost was a little too present. 

He wants to move on, Jim. Honestly, he does. And that was what you wanted for him. That's what you told both of us. I think he wants this letter of mine to give him some closure, and I want that for him. I want it for *me*. 

Blair said that I think I'm going behind your back with him. I'm not sure that's true. This isn't the man you left six years ago. He's changed. And while he doesn't look at me the way I used to see him look at you, he's no less loving. 

It's been awhile since I've had to do this, and I think it might be easier with you than it was with my ex's father--you can't exactly stare me down, can you? 

I want him, and I want your blessing. 

I'll take care of him, Jim. And if you're looking down on us now, you know I love him. 

As Blair says, "If you object, send a lightning bolt down, and I'll get the picture." 

But know that, if you do, you're going to have a hell of a fight on your hands. I've asked *my* Blair to move in with me, and I think you're the only thing standing in the way. 

So I hope this letter helps him to move on with me. Because that is exactly where I want him. 

I hope you approve. I'm not exactly Brian Ryf, but I love him as much as you did. 

I'll see you again, buddy. 

Take care, 

Simon  
  


* * *

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